


Blooming

by stardropdream



Category: X/1999
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the final battle, the world is left to rebuild. Sometimes it seems like it never will heal. But Yuzuriha and Kusanagi have their routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blooming

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ June 6, 2011.

  
The flowers hadn’t bloomed since the end of humanity. Kusanagi often said that it was hard for the plants to explain why it was that they did not bloom, and he was the last person on earth to criticize or demand answers from them. They would find their answers and reasons in their own time. It wasn’t just humanity that was left shaken by the end of times. All living things—all non-living things, too—were shaken by the events that day. It would take many years—decades—centuries—before everything was healed again.   
  
He’d taken as many plants as he could and put them, tenderly, into pots to stay in his apartment. The world outside was too hazardous now for them to truly flourish and if they had any chance of surviving, it was possibly better inside where Kusanagi stayed than outside, where the pollution and destruction was still easing away from the earth.   
  
The apartment building where Kusanagi stayed was decrepit, though. Most of Tokyo was decrepit, though the plants slowly started their takeover of the crumbled infrastructure. But the inconsistent rainfall meant that every day deserts threatened to overtake the old city as well.   
  
Kusanagi cared for those plants the best way he could. And Yuzuriha, older now, came to water the plants. He was more than capable of doing it, but she said that she liked to do it, liked to say hello to each plant, tell them that it was okay to blossom again. Kusanagi often told her that the plants liked her, trusted her now. And it was true.   
  
This always made her smile, that bright, aching smile of hers. She came weekly to water the plants and, she always admitted with a blush, to visit him as well. Inuki followed behind her faithfully. No longer a puppy, but floating just below her shoulder all the same.   
  
He’d developed a slight shake to his hand that meant he couldn’t always hold the watering can level. This was another reason why she liked to water the plants. He would follow behind her and tell her when each plant was saying it was enough, and when one plant or another didn’t need water today.   
  
It was their routine. After the final battle, this is what he spent his time doing: trying to make his apartment livable again, taking care of the plants, trying to make the world livable again. She’d stayed away from him for almost a year, after the lasting dust of that battle settled, after she stared at him with an expression he hoped never to see directed at him—betrayal, confusion, hurt. But she’d come back. She’d come back with tears in her eyes and a large hug for him, wrapping herself up around him and refusing to let go, whispering his name with just a slight tremble to the words. He’d hugged her back, realized in that moment just how painfully he’d missed her.   
  
She visited him often after that. The years floated away. The flowers gave her an excuse, a neutral excuse, one that didn’t branch from the fact that she was still deeply in love with him—he knew it, she knew it, but neither of them said. She was waiting for him. He knew that.   
  
But he wasn’t sure if he could give her what she wanted. She always smiled at him, sensing his thoughts, her expression sad. He wondered sometimes what she’d been doing for the past few years, after losing friends, after losing so many people.   
  
She was rebuilding, too. She was stronger now. Sometimes he caught her crying but, mostly, she stayed strong. She smiled more. She understood what it meant to live, understood the importance of living life, not letting it go to waste. Having Inuki with her must have helped.   
  
There was a knock at the door. Kusanagi didn’t have to rise to answer it because a short moment later, Yuzuriha was opening it, smiling.   
  
“Kusanagi-san!” she bubbled as she walked into the room, Inuki floating after him. “Good morning.”   
  
“Morning,” he said with a smile.   
  
The routine continued. She spoke cheerfully about her day, seizing the watering can from the counter and filling it with the water from the sink. She hummed to herself as she tried to pull up the right words to explain her day. She’d woken up, had breakfast, taken a walk, then come to visit him. Her routine didn’t change all that often.   
  
She trotted over to him, the watering can heavy in her hand but not threatening to spill. She beamed up at him and he smiled back, because there was something infectious about her smile. He couldn’t help it. He reached out a hand and brushed the hair from her face before he could stop himself.   
  
She didn’t start or seem surprised by the touch, she only smiled wider, her cheeks turning a cheerful, glowing pink.   
  
“So which plants need some water today?” she asked, turning her attention to the cluster of plants that took over a good amount of Kusanagi’s apartment. Kusanagi followed her, falling into his normal spot behind her shoulder.   
  
“These all do,” he said with a sweep of his hand.   
  
Yuzuriha set to work, watering them and chatting with them about her day. She told them how pretty they looked, how the sunshine must feel nice. She paused, occasionally, to look over her shoulder at him, expression soft. He let her know when each plant had enough water.   
  
But something was different today, something disrupted the routine:   
  
“Oh,” she said, softly, suddenly, bent over one of the pots. “Kusanagi-san!”   
  
“What is it?” he asked. He leaned over her shoulder, looking to see what could have caught her interest.   
  
“It’s blooming!” she said, turning over her shoulder and smiling that heart-aching smile that made something shift in Kusanagi’s chest. “Look, look! There’s a flower!”   
  
And sure enough, one of the potted plants had finally bloomed, a small, white flower. Easily missed. Small. Hidden underneath a large, sweeping leaf. Yuzuriha stared at it, breathless, almost reaching out her hand but retreating at the last moment, afraid to touch and break its delicate presence.   
  
“Oh,” she said, softly, smiling. “It smells nice, too!” She turned to Inuki with a smile. “Inuki thinks so, too, doesn’t he?”  
  
Inuki yipped quietly, bending over Yuzuriha’s other shoulder. The three of them looked at the flower together until Yuzuriha straightened up. Kusanagi leaned back and Inuki floated away to bite at the couch leg. Kusanagi still didn’t understand how a spirit could leave very physical damage to his furniture.   
  
Yuzuriha was beaming up at him. “Maybe the others will follow suit and bloom as well! That’ll be great…”  
  
Her eyes were softer today, and she took his hand in hers, squeezing. Her hand was still so small compared to his, but wasn’t as soft as it once was. It was stronger now, callused from all the work she’d done to protect Tokyo, to rebuild Tokyo.  
  
Kusanagi understood, not for the first time, that he did love this girl. He probably always had.   
  
He smiled back. “Yeah.”


End file.
